


pretty

by toffeebucky



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Divergence - Captain America: The First Avenger, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Canon Compliant, Pre-War, Stucky - Freeform, Swearing, Tiny bit of Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:20:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24606091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toffeebucky/pseuds/toffeebucky
Summary: The most important memories Bucky has from his life before the war, from when he first met Steve all the way to the night before he shipped out to England. These are the memories that brainwashing could never erase.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19





	pretty

**Author's Note:**

> this was exhausting but it's done and i'm happy. also yes i know the great depression was a thing but they were like 12 and historical accuracy is a pain in my ass so we're gonna ignore it also there's a few little differences in their backgrounds but again it's just for ease of writing. come yell about these two with me on tumblr @toffeebucky

Bucky was seven years old the first time he ever used the word “pretty” to describe a person. 

Coincidentally, Bucky was also seven years old the first time he met Steve Rogers. At the time Bucky was just scraped knees, bony elbows, a gap-toothed smile and a cowlick in his hair that could never be tamed. He spent his days running around in the streets of Brooklyn with the other boys in the neighborhood, kicking a ball around and letting their imaginations run wild. 

One sunny morning in late summer, Bucky was wandering around the street waiting for his friends to show up when he saw a pair of stick-thin legs dangling off the edge of the fire escape above him. Bucky walked around to face the front and saw a small blond boy about his age, his nose buried in a chapter book. Bucky had never seen him around before, and he didn’t know when the other boys would show up so he took a shot. 

“Hey! Fire escape kid!” Bucky shouted up to him, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his feet shuffling side to side. The boy’s head shot up quickly in surprise. His face showed confusion as he pointed a finger to his chest, silently asking if Bucky was referring to him. 

“Yeah! You wanna come play ball?” Bucky continued. The blond boy smirked lightly and shook his head. 

“I don’t really do that. I’m better off with my books,” he explained. His voice was light and had a faint accent and Bucky wondered where he must’ve been from. 

“Well we don’t gotta play ball, then. C’mon down we’ll do _something_.” Bucky waved him down, encouraging the boy to get up at least. He must have gotten through to him because the small boy sighed and stuck a bookmark inside his book, pushing himself to his feet. 

“Alright, just let me tell my Ma,” he said before climbing back through the window. Bucky smiled to himself and walked over to the stairwell of the fire escape. Bucky sat on the bottom step to wait, his legs bouncing. A few minutes passed before he heard the blond boy come climbing back out the window and down the stairs. Bucky stood quickly, his hands still shoved in his pockets but now bouncing on his toes, excited at the thought of a new friend. Steve hopped down off the bottom step in front of Bucky, a small grin on his face. 

“Ma said I’ve just gotta be home for supper tonight, she even gave me a dollar if we get hungry later,” he said brightly, still smiling. 

Bucky’s head cocked a little to the side, wonder on his face. “Why do you talk so funny? Sometimes you sound like everyone else but other times your words come out strange,” Bucky asked quickly. Steve chuckled and looked up to see that Bucky was serious in his question. 

“Oh, well my Ma’s from Ireland. She came over here and met my Dad but her accent always stayed. She reads to me every night so I guess I picked up some stuff? I’ve never noticed it, though,” Steve explained. He shrugged his shoulders and looked down. Bucky shook his head lightly and smiled, putting his hand on Steve’s shoulder. 

“No it’s okay, I like the way you talk,” he confirmed.

“I’m Steve by the way.” 

Bucky’s smile grew wider and he took a hand out of his pocket and stuck it out in front of him. “I’m James!” Steve grabbed his hand and shook it comically. The two boys laughed then started walking down the sidewalk. They spent the whole day together, Bucky had forgotten all about the other boys and playing ball. They walked all around Brooklyn, chasing stray dogs and wandering through parks. They found big sticks and played swords, they even spent Steve’s dollar on ice cream cones that they brought with them to the park. 

“What kinda name is _Buchanan_?” Steve asked incredulously, vanilla ice cream dripping down his chin. Bucky laughed heartily, having already downed his ice cream and was now climbing up the tree Steve was leaning against. 

“I don’t even know. My momma says it’s a ‘handsome name for a handsome boy’, I just think it’s an excuse to get pummeled,” he answered. Steve laughed and finished off the cone in his hand, wiping his face on his shirt. 

“Grant is a normal name, I think,” Bucky continued. “Your parents had the right idea there.” Bucky reached the top branch and pulled himself on top of it. He sighed happily as he looked out to his newfound view. The sun was starting to set over the cityline, a shade of trees in front of it. 

“Wow Steve, you gotta get up here!” Bucky shouted down to where Steve was now sitting against the tree. 

“No I’m alright James, I’m not really a climber,” Steve shouted back. Bucky smiled to himself. 

“C’mon! You gotta see it!” Bucky continued. He didn’t want to ever climb down. 

Steve shook his head and looked up at Bucky, smiling. “Why don’t you just describe it to me?” 

“I don’t know, pal. It’s just really... “ Bucky paused. Steve looked back up to Bucky. 

“Really, what?” he asked. Bucky looked down and met Steve’s eyes, a small smile forming on his face.

“Really pretty,” he replied.  
_________________________________________________________________

Bucky didn’t meet Steve’s mother until he was almost nine years old, but once he did, he was back at their house almost every day. 

There was something about Sarah Rogers that made Bucky feel more at home there than he ever felt in his own house. No matter how tired she was from her shifts at the hospital, she always made sure to greet Bucky with a smile. Tonight was no different. Steve and Bucky were sitting on the living room floor, Steve doodling on scrap paper and Bucky just happy to watch. He only looked up when the sound of the front door closing rang through the apartment. 

“Hey Mrs. Rogers!” Bucky said gleefully when Sarah came into the living room, Steve still lost in his doodles. 

“Hi James how are you today?” she asked, a kind tone to her voice. Bucky had quickly come to love her Irish accent. She always spoke so softly and her words were always kind. Bucky loved listening to her tell stories, if only just to hear her talk. Because of this Bucky has heard many stories of Steve when he was really young, much to Steve’s dismay. 

“I’m real good, ma’am how are you?” Bucky asked with a smile. If there’s one thing his momma taught him well it was to always use his good manners around adults. 

“Oh James I wish you would just call me Sarah. Though I wouldn’t mind you teaching Steve some of those good manners you have,” she smiled and bent down to ruffle Steve’s hair. It was this that made Steve come back to reality. 

“Hey Ma! Can James sleep over? He’s already had dinner,” Steve asked. Sarah smiled sadly and looked down at the two boys, already seeing disappointment growing on Steve’s face. “I’m sorry baby but you know you have school tomorrow. I know James’ mother wants him home soon too.” Steve looked back to his drawings and nodded. Sarah quirked her head to the side and made a face like she was planning a surprise. “How about he stays the whole weekend? We’ll cook on Saturday, he can even come to church with us. Does that sound good, boys?” Sarah laughed at the boys’ quick and overjoyed reactions. Bucky never got to stay the whole weekend before, he couldn’t imagine the fun in store. 

“Can I really Mrs. Rogers?” Bucky asked with a wide grin on his face. Sarah smiled in response and patted his head. 

“Only if you promise to start calling me Sarah.” Bucky nodded quickly and looked at the watch on her wrist. 

“You’re right I should probably be getting home, but I’ll be here this weekend for sure!” Bucky responded. He stood up and went to grab his jacket from the kitchen table. “Oh Mrs. R- I mean, Sarah,” Bucky said slowly, unused to referring to adults by their first name. Sarah just smiled and nodded slightly. “My momma wanted me to invite you guys over for supper one night soon. She said she doesn’t see you enough and you deserve a break from the hospital,” Bucky explained while putting his jacket on. 

“I’ll check my schedule and make sure to let you know, tell her I said thank you for the invite,” Sarah answered. Bucky nodded and headed towards the door, bracing himself for the coming cold. He turned back and waved goodbye, his smile never having left his face. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Stevie!” Bucky called back as he left. Steve nodded lightly, smiling to himself at the nickname. Steve thought he really needed to come up with one too, it’s only fair. 

That weekend Bucky decided was the best of his life. He spent the whole weekend at the Rogers’ house and the three of them made supper on Saturday night just like Sarah suggested. Sarah was trying to immerse herself more in the New York culture so she attempted some Italian recipe that she got from a coworker. 

Bucky helped her a lot, not just because she wasn’t a great cook but because he genuinely loved being in the kitchen. His mother nowadays usually kicked him out in favor of teaching his younger sister, but when it was just him he was always sitting on the counter and helping in any way he could. It became like a secret passion for Bucky, the one “girly” thing he loved to do, and Sarah always did her best to teach Bucky the limited knowledge she had in the kitchen. Steve favored just sitting on the counter and watching his two favorite people, occasionally passing them an ingredient or setting the table. 

Sarah went to bed early that night, her hospital shift starting right after church gets out the next morning. Steve and Bucky spent almost two hours that night making the perfect pillow fort in Steve’s bedroom, using all the blankets, pillows and cushions they could find. Once it was perfect, their imaginations ran wild. First it was the great castle, then the firehouse, then the rollercoaster. Each time, the boys laughed wildly, having the time of their lives with just a roughly constructed pillow fort and each other. 

It was late into the night when the boys finally crashed, gathering the blankets and making a cozy spot in the middle of the fort. The boys were quiet for a few minutes before Steve’s voice broke the silence. 

“I think I finally came up with a nickname for you.” Bucky turned his head to Steve questioningly. “What d’ya mean?” he asked. 

“You always call me Stevie, I thought maybe you should have a nickname too,” Steve continued. Bucky smiled and rolled his head back to face the ceiling. “I dunno, not much you can do with _James_. And you are NOT calling me Jimmy,” Bucky chuckled. Steve laughed in response and shook his head. 

“That’s why it’s from your middle name.” Bucky’s brow furrowed and he looked back to Steve again. Steve just smiled. “Bucky.” The boys were quiet again for a few minutes. Steve turned to him, a frown taking over his features. “You don’t like it,” he stated quietly. Bucky quickly sat on his elbows and shook his head in disagreement. 

“No no! Stevie I love it. I really love it.” Steve grinned and pulled the blanket further up his body, trying to block out the November chill coming through the open window. Bucky smiled back to him, thinking about his new name. He sighed and laid back down, scooting a little closer to Steve. “I love it,” Bucky smiled. “It’s pretty,” he whispered. His eyes closed before he could see the small smile on Steve’s face.  
_________________________________________________________________

Bucky was eleven years old the first time Steve got deathly sick. 

He knew full well about all of Steve’s medical problems. When Sarah saw how much Bucky cared for him, she sat him down and explained it all to him, wanting to make sure that he understood the kind of things Steve might face. That same afternoon Bucky made his way to the closest library and read everything he could find on the different ailments. He didn’t understand half of it and some very curious librarians asked what interest he could possibly have in such things, but he wanted to be prepared if anything ever happened. All the reading didn’t prepare him for this. 

Steve hadn’t been to school for a few weeks. The holiday break arrived and Sarah wouldn’t let him even come in the house, worried that whatever Steve had was contagious. Bucky worried day and night about it. His mother tried to keep him calm, encouraging him to play outside or with the other boys, to enjoy the snowfall from the night before. He almost considered making a snowman until Sarah knocked on his bedroom door. 

“Hi Bucky, can I sit down?” she asked quietly. Ever since Steve came up with the nickname Bucky loved it so much he asked everyone to call him that. He never liked James anyway, and it just always made him think of Steve. He nodded in response and sat up in his bed, wrapping his arms around his knees. Bucky could tell she had been crying and his heart was hammering in his chest. 

“You know Steve’s been sick the last few weeks?” she asked. Bucky nodded again, unable to meet her eyes. He really didn’t like where this was going. “Well, the doctor came to look him over this morning... “ she paused, taking a deep breath. “It doesn’t look good, honey. I-I’m having a priest come in tomorrow, just in case.” Bucky felt tears welling up in his eyes, he tried desperately to push them down, he shouldn’t cry, he couldn’t. “I understand if you don’t want to, Bucky I really do. But I know he’d want you to see him again. He’s been asking for you whenever he’s awake,” she continued. Bucky felt the tears fall freely now. Sarah leaned forward and rubbed his shoulder, wiping the tears off his cheek. 

“I want to be there for him, please,” Bucky whispered. Sarah smiled sadly. 

“Why don’t you come over tomorrow morning?” she offered. Bucky just nodded slowly, still staring down at his bedsheets. 

That night Bucky’s mother held him tightly as he cried, his body shaking through his short breaths. His mother just held him, rubbing his back and whispering lovingly in his ear. The next morning she acted as if it didn’t happen. She was never one for big emotion and she always taught Bucky that boy’s don’t cry, but even she understood what was happening, and that Bucky desperately needed his mother’s love that night. He got dressed in the morning and went straight to Steve’s, his family didn’t even blink when he blatantly refused breakfast. 

Sarah smiled kindly when she opened the front door for him. She was clutching a handkerchief in one hand, the other she placed on Bucky’s shoulder as she guided him to Steve’s bedroom. Bucky knew the way, but he understood that she just needed to know he was there. 

It was peaceful. The only sounds in the room were Steve’s wheezing breaths and the quiet sobs of Sarah. She had told Bucky a while ago that one day Steve might catch something he just couldn’t shake, but Bucky never thought it would be so soon. 

He sat by Steve’s bedside, just talking. They hadn’t seen each other in weeks, so Bucky opted to just tell him what’s been going on. What he was doing at school, the snowball fights, even what he’s had for dinner the last few nights, anything to just stay right where he is. Steve wasn’t even conscious through it, he was fever hot and taking shaky breaths, but Bucky just kept talking to him. 

Sarah eventually left and Bucky didn’t even notice. He didn’t realize how much time had passed until he saw the late afternoon sun shining through the window. Bucky got up and rested his hand lightly on Steve’s arm. He didn’t say it, but he felt it. _Goodbye, friend._

Sarah walked Bucky to the front door and handed him his jacket. He gave her a tight hug and thanked her. No matter what happens he was just grateful to have been there. He walked home slowly, taking the long roads and scenic streets, eventually walking in his front door as the sun was setting. Once again, no one blinked when he went straight to his room.

Whoever or whatever in the world was responsible for miracles, Bucky really owed them one. Because he woke up the next day expecting to hear of his best friend’s passing, but instead he hears that he’s getting better. Bucky spent the next week jittery with excitement. The thought of seeing Steve well again was enough to make the time fly. Ten days after he heard, Sarah sent for Bucky to come over that afternoon, Bucky practically sprinted.

Steve was still frail, he couldn’t walk around the room much before getting tired and his diet was still mostly broth and water, but he was alive and awake. That’s all that ever mattered. Sarah asked if Bucky wanted to stay the night, she had to go back to work and she wasn’t quite ready to leave Steve alone yet. Bucky nodded fervently and said he’d be the best at caring for him. She just smiled and ruffled his hair, she did that a lot. Bucky never minded, though.

“I’ll make sure to stop by and tell your mother on my way, Bucky. Wouldn’t want her worrying.” Bucky smiled and turned to walk back to Steve’s room. They talked for a while over the broth Sarah heated up before leaving, Bucky talking about his day and Steve just content to listen. 

“I heard you, you know,” Steve interrupted. Bucky stopped and looked at Steve, confused. “You came here one day, you talked for hours, didn’t think you were gonna shut up,” Steve continued. Bucky chuckled and smiled fondly. 

“I know I rambled, I just... I wanted to talk to you. That was the best I could do at the time,” Bucky explained. Steve grinned and ran his hands through his hair, it was so long now. 

“Ugh!” Steve exclaimed. “My hair is so gross. You sweat for three weeks straight it really messes it up,” he groaned. Bucky laughed and reached over, pushing all Steve’s hair straight up so it stuck out everywhere. The two boys roared with laughter, ecstatic to feel that joy again. Steve suddenly started coughing hard and wheezing, Bucky just rubbed his back. Steve’s coughs melted back into a light laugh and he reached up to touch at his now spiked up hair. 

“How do I look?” he asked proudly. Bucky smiled wider than he had in a month, his eyes bright. 

“Pretty.”

_________________________________________________________________

Bucky was thirteen years old the first time Steve got beat up. 

Some boys were poking fun at a young girl in the playground, she was playing with a doll and they decided that for some reason it was their business. Steve stood up for her and the three of them pummeled him in the yard after school. 

Bucky found Steve laying in the yard and got him up, carefully walking him home. When they walked in Steve’s front door Bucky directed him to sit at the kitchen table while he fetched some supplies to patch him up. It was nothing too serious, thirteen year old boys can only do so much, just a few cuts and bruises. 

“Your momma taught me a few things about patching up cuts and scrapes,” Bucky said after a while, still nursing the particularly nasty cut on Steve’s eyebrow. “She said that if I’m gonna be friends with you I gotta know how to fix you up.” Steve forced a laugh but his face quickly fell back to stone. Part of his bottom lip was swollen and the cut split again when he tried talking. 

“I didn’t think they’d come after me, Buck. When they walked away I was feeling proud of myself. Didn’t think..” his voice trailed off. Bucky dropped the towel down to Steve’s lip and dabbed at the blood. 

“I know, Stevie. They’re assholes, don’t let ‘em get to ya,” Bucky chided. Steve nodded and the two were quiet after that. They had a small supper and Steve sat on the couch drawing while Bucky read. 

Later, Steve didn’t say anything when he saw Bucky setting up blankets and pillows on the floor of Steve’s room, getting settled for the night. Bucky didn’t say anything when he heard Steve crying quietly in the middle of the night. And Steve definitely didn’t say anything when Bucky crawled in next to him, his arm lightly draped over Steve’s side. Steve sniffed and looked up, his eyes red and puffy. He mouthed a thank you and closed his eyes, settling in against Bucky’s chest. Bucky sighed and closed his eyes, still thinking of how bright and blue Steve’s eyes looked through the tears. 

_So pretty._  
_________________________________________________________________

Bucky was fourteen the first time he kissed a girl.

It was quick and chaste behind a tree in the park, the girl was smiling ear to ear after and Bucky felt kinda proud of himself. He ran back to the soccer game everyone was playing and the girl ran off to tell all her friends. 

It only happened because Bucky’s friends told him she liked him, Bucky thought she was nice to look at, they ran into each other by the tree, got to talking, the rest is history. Earlier that day Bucky had tried to get Steve to come out to the park but he said his back was hurting him especially, Bucky didn’t believe a word of it but he didn’t pry. 

He knew Steve never got along well with the other boys. While they were all getting taller and more built, it seemed like Steve was getting skinnier. He measured just barely 5 feet tall and 90 pounds soaking wet. Even if the other boys were nice enough to let him join, Steve never would. He’s never been very athletically inclined. He much favored sitting on the fire escape sketching or reading. 

The boys kicked the ball around until the sun was setting and everyone had to run home for supper. Bucky knew that Sarah wouldn’t be home until the early morning so he headed for Steve’s to invite him to have supper with the Barnes family. Even though Bucky had a bigger house and room, the two boys still preferred being at Steve’s apartment. It was in the heart of the city and often just the two of them, no annoying siblings or nosy parents coming in. As they got older Sarah picked up more shifts at the hospital, working more late nights cause she was comfortable with Steve being home alone. He was always responsible and could handle himself perfectly well, but Sarah knew that most of the time Steve wasn’t by himself, Bucky was rarely far away. 

Bucky got to the apartment building and sure enough Steve was sitting curled up on the fire escape, his back propped against the railing. 

“Steve!” Bucky shouted up. Steve jumped and turned around quickly, rolling his eyes at Bucky’s smiling face. He nodded a hello and went back to his sketching. “Steve! Come on my Ma’s making supper she wants you over!” he added. Steve took a small sigh and put his pencil down. He hadn’t seen the Barnes’ in a while and he did miss Winnifred’s excellent cooking. 

“Alright, Buck I’ll be right down,” Steve called while standing up. He stretched out and felt his back crack just right, his pain fading a little bit. He crawled through the window and shut it behind him, rushing to grab the shirt he wore earlier and throwing it on. He grabbed his keys and locked the front door behind him, jogging down the stairs to where Bucky stood waiting. 

The two boys started their walk to Bucky’s home, the path long since memorized by both of them. Bucky thought they could probably do it with their eyes closed, forward and back. Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets as they walked. Steve’s come to notice that it’s a nervous tic of Bucky’s, and he was about to ask what was wrong when Bucky spoke first. 

“You know Mary? From school?” Bucky asked nonchalantly. Steve looked over, confusion still covering his features. 

“Yeah she’s the short blonde, right?” 

“Yeah, yeah her,” Bucky responded.

“What about her?” Bucky paused. He didn’t know why he was so hesitant to tell Steve, he practically shouted from the treetops when he told the other boys earlier. 

“I uh, I kissed her today. At the park,” Bucky breathed out. His shoulders were hunched slightly from where his hands were pushed completely into his pockets. Steve’s eyes widened slightly in disbelief, but he smiled and elbowed Bucky in the side. 

“Wow, nice one Buck! She’s real good-looking, I know lots of the other boys are after her.” Bucky lightly chuckled in relief, still unsure of why he was so nervous. “So are you gonna like, go after her again? Date her or somethin’?” Steve continued. Bucky shook his head harshly, his eyes wide. 

“No way Stevie, I don’t care that much. Just a one time thing is all,” he assured. Steve nodded, his words feeling jumbled in his mouth and unable to come out. He wondered why Bucky seemed so nervous to tell him, but he didn’t push it when Bucky suddenly changed the subject to the dog across the street. 

When the boys arrived at the house dinner was ready and Bucky’s sister Rebecca was helping to set the table. Her face lit up when she spotted them coming in the door and she ran to give them both tight hugs. She was only a few years younger than Bucky but was so grown up for her age. She always wanted to hang out with them whenever Steve was over and she loved hearing about their days at school. Steve knew that Bucky got frustrated with her easily and hated when she tried to follow them around, but Steve really cared for her. Most of his life it’s just been his Ma and Bucky in his memories, it’s been nice for Steve to have her around. As far as he was concerned, she was just as much his sister as she was Bucky’s. 

Bucky ruffled her hair after prying her out of the hug, telling her to set an extra place at the table. She smiled up at Steve again before running to the kitchen to grab another plate. 

That night at dinner seemed different than it ever had before. Bucky’s parents chatted normally, Rebecca talked joyfully about her day at school, Steve was even getting a second helping of food. His parents asked Steve how his classes were going, how his mother was doing, even about his drawings. Bucky didn’t even realize they knew about Steve’s art, did he tell them? 

Bucky focused his attention back to the table when he heard his father and Steve both start laughing wildly, practically cackling, and his mother even chuckling a little. Bucky had no idea what they were laughing at and he figured it wouldn’t be as funny the second time anyway. He hadn’t seen Steve laugh like that in a long time. His smile was shining on his face, his eyes bright and his arms clutching his stomach as he kept letting out heavy breaths of laughter. Bucky felt himself smile just at the sight of it, seeing Steve in such a happy state. Bucky thought he looked pretty.

_________________________________________________________________

Bucky was sixteen when he saw it. 

He had stayed late at school one day, he got snarky with a teacher and had to stay after to clean the blackboard in her classroom. Bucky grumbled the whole way through it, and when he was done a few other teachers took his punishment as a kindness and asked him to help them with other jobs. Bucky felt bad and ended up staying at the school until after dark doing odd work for the teachers he actually didn’t mind. They all thanked him profusely, with candies or promises of a higher grade on the next assignment. Bucky waved them off and pulled his jacket on, trying to get out before another one caught him. 

The chill of late February was quickly setting in his bones as he hurried home. Steve had offered to wait for him when school got out but Bucky insisted he go home, he didn’t need to be sitting outside in this weather. He also had a bad bruise on his leg from when he got beat up on the baseball field a few days prior, Bucky had insisted he go straight home and rest it and Steve begrudgingly went. 

Bucky didn’t look forward to the earful he was sure to get from his mother when he got home so he decided to take the long way. The biting cold was definitely better than the harsh words he knew were waiting for him. Bucky never worried about walking through the city at night. Last summer he sprouted almost 6 inches and all the sports helped bulk him up, he looked much older than he was so he never had an issue with people approaching him. The streets were relatively empty, not much life in the city on a frigid weeknight. Bucky kept mostly to the sidewalks, occasionally cutting through alleys to avoid large groups. 

As he turned down one alley he heard shuffling and movement further down. He couldn’t see what it was through the dark and he thought for a moment to turn back, but he wore his father’s iron ring today and he knew he could get a few good punches in if anything happened. This was the easiest way home and Bucky was sticking to it. He stayed close to the wall and kept his head down, hoping to avoid the person even noticing he was there. 

As he got closer he saw it was two people, one crowding the other against the wall opposite the one Bucky was keeping to. He relaxed a little when he realized it wasn’t a threat at all, just a horny couple trying to be secretive. He’d seen it before, it was always a dame who was with a guy she wasn’t supposed to be with, hiding from her husband no doubt, just trying to have some extra fun in her life. Bucky shook his head and kept walking, still keeping to the wall so as not to disturb them. He was almost past them when he was surprised by a deep voice breaking the sounds. 

“Shit!” Bucky looked over to see a man staring at him in fear. Bucky took his hands from his jacket pockets and put them in front of himself defensively, trying to show he meant no trouble. He was about to speak when the words left his mouth completely. Standing behind the tall man was another shorter man, his face just as fearful. His pants were shoved halfway down his thighs and his shirt rucked up above his chest, looking frozen in fear. Bucky’s eyes were wide in shock and for a moment not a single person moved. 

“Woah...the fuck?” was all Bucky could say, his voice cracking at the end. The smaller man seemed to suddenly get his bearings and he quickly fixed his clothes, covering himself up. Bucky’s face was going through a range of emotions and the taller man still had his arm protectively over the other. 

“Look man, we don’t want any trouble, o-okay? Just let us go, please.” The taller man’s voice was shaky and uneven, and Bucky thought he heard the shorter one crying. Let them go? The taller man alone had almost a foot on him and at least 30 pounds, Bucky would barely be able to get a punch in before he got overpowered. The two men were still staring at him, Bucky just nodded his head faintly, his eyes still wide and mouth hanging open in shock. The smaller man cried in relief as he gripped the other’s hand and they sprinted out of the alleyway. 

Bucky still didn’t move, his eyes staring at where the two men were, doing whatever they were doing against the wall. Bucky knew it happened, men together. What very little he knew though was that it was wrong, something that confused men did. That’s what he was always taught anyway. 

Bucky finally took a deep breath and shoved his hands back in his pockets, restarting his walk home. It was way past dinner when Bucky’s home came into view, he prayed that he could go straight to his room and go to bed, his mind racing with a hundred different thoughts. He walked through the door and saw his family all cleaning up in the kitchen, their backs turned and oblivious to him. He whispered a thank you and rushed up the stairs to his room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

 _What the hell._

It was the only thing that kept repeating in his thoughts. Those men thought Bucky was going to hurt them. Not only were there two of them, but they were older and stronger than Bucky, so why were they afraid of him? Bucky was taught that what they were doing was wrong, but not that they should be hurt because of it? Even then he never felt very strongly about the whole thing. Bucky was always a firm believer in the concept of minding your own business, this was no different. But they seemed so genuinely scared of him. 

_Oh god_ , did they think Bucky was gonna _kill_ them? It had to be the only explanation for why they didn’t just jump him or immediately run, they must've thought he had a weapon. Bucky wasn’t even angry or upset by what he saw, confused definitely but nothing else. He couldn’t get the image of the shorter man out of his head. Before Bucky saw the man’s frightened expression, he just saw his body. His clothes in disarray, exposing so much of himself. It was a wonder he wasn’t freezing. Although he did have the other man completely pressed up against him, his hand on... 

Bucky shook his head quickly, trying to rid the thoughts out of his mind. He needed a cold shower. Bucky fell asleep that night thinking about what he saw. 

_Bucky’s eyes opened slowly, taking in his surroundings he saw that he was back in the alley. It looked like it was the middle of the night and the streets were empty. Bucky looked around in confusion, about to walk towards the street when he heard a quiet voice behind him._

_“Bucky...“ the voice moaned out. Bucky whipped around and saw Steve pressed up against the wall, one hand holding his shirt up his chest and the other dangerously low, Bucky didn’t dare to look. He watched as Steve sighed and shut his eyes, whispering Bucky’s name again. Bucky felt a flush come over his body and his face was hot from the deep blush covering it._

_“St-Stevie?” Bucky croaked out, clearing his throat but his voice still cracking. “What’re you doin’?” Steve smiled and looked up at Bucky through his eyelashes and Bucky felt his stomach drop._

_“What’s it look like, Buck?” he mumbled out. Steve let go of his shirt and grabbed Bucky’s wrist, guiding his hand underneath his shirt and against his chest. Bucky took a sharp inhale of breath at the hot skin under his hand. He still refused to look below the blond’s chest, but all too aware of what was happening. Steve let go of Bucky’s wrist and reached up to grab the back of his neck, slowly pulling him down. Bucky felt breathless._

_“Steve,” he warned. The blond just smiled, something in his eyes that Bucky couldn’t decipher, but he felt it._

_“S’okay, c’mere baby,” Steve groaned. Any inhibitions Bucky thought he had were thrown out the fucking window then. He leaned down and closed the small gap between them, pressing his lips against Steve’s soft mouth. He heard Steve moan lightly against him, Bucky unknowingly responding with the same. They stayed this way for what felt like a few minutes, Bucky kissing him harshly, both hands now exploring the shorter boy’s chest._

_Steve pulled back and grinned up at Bucky, his lips red and slightly swollen. Bucky choked on air when he felt Steve’s hand rest just above his hips, dangerously close._

_“Do you want this?” Steve asked in a whisper. Bucky nodded his head painfully fast, bringing another wicked grin to Steve’s face. He leaned down again to capture Steve’s mouth again, his eyes shutting tight._

Bucky shot awake in his bed, sweat covering his entire body. He looked out the window and saw it was still dark, probably the middle of the night. He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, desperately trying to ignore the glaring problem he now had under his comforter. 

_What the fuck was that?_ Once again Bucky’s head was racing, he had been getting dreams similar to that for a while now, he was sixteen and definitely thinking about girls a lot, but that’s just it. Those dreams are always with _girls_. Not guys, and definitely not Steve. Bucky got up and walked over to his window, shoving it open and sticking his head partway outside, the cold breeze a welcome relief. He leaned his elbows on the windowsill and rested his chin in his hands. This was gonna be on his mind for a long time. 

After a while Bucky sighed and stood up, leaving his window open and climbing back into bed. Through all his thoughts and questions he just kept seeing Steve’s face. The smile, the laugh, the blissful look in his eyes. Bucky thought about how pretty he looked.

_________________________________________________________________

Steve was sixteen years old when he realized he was in love.

He had just turned sixteen, in fact. He and Bucky celebrated Steve’s birthday at Coney Island and Steve must’ve picked up a cold cause he’d been sick as a dog for the last four days. Bucky’s been in and out, making him soup and anything else Steve might need, often falling asleep in a chair in Steve’s room because he refused to leave. 

Steve just passes the time as he always does; sketching anything he can think of. He’s recently taken to drawing Bucky. Steve thought he could use more practice drawing human faces, so whenever Bucky fell asleep or got entranced in a book, Steve would scratch his pencil across the paper, mapping out the sharp lines of Bucky’s face. 

Steve didn’t often draw faces or people, his only subjects being his Ma or a quick sketch of someone hanging out in the street below. But now that Bucky was here so often and Steve had nothing better to do, he couldn’t seem to stop. Page after page, some quick sketches of him smiling, others are hours worth of work to capture his sleeping figure. He never showed any of them though, embarrassed by how many he drew and that Bucky might think it strange. 

Steve quietly put his sketchbook on the floor beside his bed and settled in to sleep when a bad cough took over his body. He sat up trying to take deep breaths, but his lungs were burning as he kept coughing out. He heard Bucky startle awake from across the room, hearing him rush over to rub Steve’s back and keep his head down. 

When Steve’s coughs finally subsided Bucky sat at the edge of the bed, his hand still soothing at Steve’s back. Steve sighed heavily. 

“When does it end?” he asked quietly. Bucky’s head turned in confusion. 

“What d’ya mean?” Steve sighed again and shook his head, wrapping his arms around his middle. 

“This, the sickness. I always get sick and every time I never know if…” he trailed off. 

“Never know if what?” Bucky’s face was full of concern as he eyed the blond. 

“When it’ll just be over. The end of the line,” Steve explained. He didn’t have to say the words, Bucky understood. Steve doesn’t know if one day he’ll get so sick that he never recovers. Bucky shivered at the thought of losing Steve to sickness, in fact he hated the thought of losing him at all. 

“I know. I’ll always be with you, though. ‘Til the end of the line, Stevie.” Steve smiled at that. He looked up to meet Bucky’s eyes, his face still written with concern. 

“Thank you, Buck.” Bucky smiled and squeezed his shoulder, a reassurance. 

“Get some rest, your fever broke this morning so we know you’re getting better.” Steve nodded and settled back under the thin sheet. He was going to argue when he saw Bucky sit back down in the chair but thought better of it, Bucky was as stubborn as the day is long and he wouldn’t give in. 

_‘Til the end of the line._ The words kept running through Steve’s mind. He knew how much Bucky cared for him, but that? That sounded like a marriage vow. That was Bucky’s equivalent to “til death do us part” and Steve’s thoughts were racing. It made Steve think about his future with Bucky in his life. He always thought Bucky would grow old with a nice dame, have a few kids maybe. Steve didn’t think much about his own life, he always let himself assume that a particularly bad winter might take him before he could have that kind of life, now he’s thinking differently. Now he’s picturing a life in the city, a cozy apartment with just the two of them, maybe a dog. Eventually it shifts to a little house upstate, long sunny days and lake trips every other weekend. 

Through all that he’s picturing, he never sees Bucky’s wife, his kids, it’s always just the two of them. Always just them together, no matter where they go, just love. _Oh. It’s him._ Steve’s breath catches in his throat when he finally understands. It’s not the beach trips and picket fences he wants, it’s just Bucky. Anywhere in the world, no matter what, he just wants Bucky in his life. He loves him. 

Well fuck. He loves him. Steve is so screwed.

_________________________________________________________________

Bucky was seventeen years old when he realized he was in love. 

It was late November and there was a thin sheet of snow coming down in Brooklyn. Bucky’s family was upstate visiting his grandparents and he stayed behind for an important test at school, at least that’s what he said. Bucky didn’t care much for school, he just really needed a reason to avoid his family for the week. He hadn’t been feeling like himself for a while and he could do with a few days where he isn’t swamped by his invasive family and their questions. 

Bucky was on his way home from a date, more a gathering really, a few different couples from class meeting up for dinner together. Bucky enjoyed it well enough but he was bored most of the time, the girl he was supposed to be with paid so little attention to him he was almost sure she didn’t even know his name. Bucky made sure to grab some food to go for him and Steve, slipping away before any of them even noticed he was gone. 

Bucky held the bag close to his chest as he walked quickly to Steve’s, trying to take in some of the warmth coming from it. When the building finally came into sight he rushed up the stairs to the front door, unlocking it with the house key Sarah gave him years ago. He shut the door quickly behind him to block out the chill and tossed the keys and the bag of food onto the kitchen counter. The living room was empty but he heard the faint sound of the shower running. 

“Steve I’m here! I brought supper!” Bucky’s voice carried through the apartment. He heard no response but figured Steve couldn’t hear him so he shucked off his jacket and started pulling the food out of the bag, laying it out on the countertop. Bucky turned to get some utensils when he saw the sink was full of dirty dishes. He sighed and rolled up his sleeves, trying to get them done quickly so he could eat. Steve kept a relatively clean house but damn if that kid didn’t hate doing the dishes. 

When Bucky was finishing up he remembered there were a few cups and glasses still in Steve’s room so he put down the last plate and went to get them. He laughed lightly to himself when he saw four different half drunk glasses of water on Steve’s bedside table. _Not surprising._ He went to grab them when he saw Steve’s sketchbook sitting open on his bed, a drawing of the city skyline half finished laying on top. Bucky sat on the edge of the bed and picked up the book to admire it when a bunch of loose pages fell to the ground. 

“Well shit,” Bucky whispered to himself. It wasn’t that Steve didn’t like him looking at his drawings, he just preferred to choose which ones Bucky saw, under the impression that his other drawings were somehow bad. Bucky loved everything Steve drew, though. 

He knelt down to pick up the papers when he saw they were drawings of people, mostly above the shoulders but a few were more widely angled. As he looked closer at one he saw it was a drawing of himself, _they all were_. Drawings of him smiling, laughing, reading, even sleeping. Some of them were so detailed Bucky couldn’t believe they were sketch drawings, they looked exactly like him. Bucky felt like he should be weirded out by it, but he was fascinated, he loved them. Steve captured something in Bucky’s features that he didn’t even know he had, a certain beauty that shines through the sharp lines of his jaw and soft curves around his eyes and mouth. Bucky was rarely cocky or boastful about his appearance, he knew he wasn’t bad to look at, but these drawings showed what felt like a completely different side of himself. 

He didn’t even know how long he was looking through the pictures when Steve came into the room, a towel wrapped loosely around him. He jumped in surprise when he saw Bucky sitting on the bed and his hand flew over his quickly beating heart. His eyes went wide when he saw what was in Bucky’s hands. 

“Bucky! Those are nothing they’re just-” 

“They’re incredible, Stevie,” Bucky interrupted. His eyes were scanning over all the drawings, his fingertips lightly tracing the lines. “When did you draw these?” Bucky finally looked up, seeing Steve blushing furiously and clutching his arms around his still bare torso. He shrugged his shoulders, walking over to his dresser and pulling out some clothes to sleep in. 

“I dunno, I’ve always loved drawing you. I do it more often when I’m sick, though. What else am I gonna do?” Steve huffed a laugh at the end. Bucky quirked a small smile, piling the drawings together and stuffing them back in the sketchbook. 

“You really love drawing me?” Bucky asked, still smiling. His eyes fell quickly to the carpet when Steve dropped his towel to get dressed. Bucky has seen it a million times before, but right now it feels too intimate. Steve nodded, pulling his shirt over his head. “Draw me now.” Steve’s eyebrow arched up in question at Bucky’s sudden request. 

“Why?” he asked. Bucky shrugged, looking down at the sketchbook he was still holding. 

“I dunno, I just wanna see what you come up with. ‘M not much of a model, though,” Bucky continued. Steve chuckled and grabbed the pencils off of his desk.

“Course you are, Buck. Just strike your pose then don’t move a muscle. If you can handle that of course,” Steve teased. 

Bucky grinned and positioned the chair by the window and sat down, shifting around trying to find the right pose. Steve laughed at his odd attempts to look right. 

“Just get comfortable, Buck. It won’t take me long, I’m not doing a real detailed one,” Steve assured him. 

Bucky sat with his back slid slightly down the back of the chair, his legs spread apart. His right arm resting on the armrest and his left elbow propped on the other side, resting his chin on his fingertips, his eyes looking right at Steve’s cross-legged position on the bed. 

He thought he saw a blush creep over Steve’s face under the glow of the table lamp, though he wasn’t sure why. He watched as Steve opened to a blank sheet and started on the outline. Bucky wondered how much of his pose Steve was actually going to draw, but he was sitting comfortably so he didn’t mind. He tried to ignore his racing heartbeat, though. 

Soon Bucky started feeling like the room was getting hotter around him. He kept his eyes on Steve, meaning that often when Steve looked up, he caught Bucky’s eyes. They were both silent, Steve focused on his drawing and Bucky feeling like he was gonna pass out if Steve kept smiling at him like that. The only sounds were the scratching of the pencil and the howling winds outside. 

Bucky’s thoughts zoned out after a while, thinking about Steve and his art. He always encouraged him to try and sell his skills, there’s always companies looking for artists to design things for them. Steve argues that he isn’t good enough but Bucky doesn’t hear any of it. Bucky knows how talented he is, he loves Steve’s art, he loves him and- _Oh no._ Bucky gasped audibly when the thought came to his mind, enough for Steve to lift his head in concern. Bucky just shook his head lightly, saying something about having a chill, he didn’t even really pay attention. He was just trying to understand why he was too stupid to not realize until now, he really loved Steve. A lot. 

After a while Steve put his pencil down and brushed the excess eraser shavings off the paper. Bucky’s vision cleared and he raised his eyebrows at Steve. 

“Done?” Steve nodded, smudging a few extra lines on the page. Bucky set his arm down and sat up straight, stretching his back. He quickly got up and walked over to the bed, sitting behind Steve. His mouth fell open slightly, like he was seeing Steve’s art for the first time in his life. 

“I could do better if I spent more time on it but I’m starving so I couldn’t really focus,” Steve said. He wasn’t lying when he said he couldn’t focus, but he may have given a different reason as to why. He’d drawn Bucky a hundred times before, but he’d never had Bucky staring directly at him while he did it. 

Bucky didn’t say anything to Steve’s remark, he just reached his arm over the blond’s shoulder to trace the paper, his own eyes staring back at him through the pencil lines. He heard Steve’s breath hitch slightly, startling Bucky’s attention back. He quickly retracted his arm and sat up, twisting around to stretch out again. 

“Well I brought some food home, uh it might be a little cold now but still alright,” Bucky said, sounding rushed and definitely flustered. He started towards the kitchen when he noticed Steve hadn’t moved from his position on the bed. Bucky looked back in confusion, hanging his head back through the door frame. 

“You comin’?” he questioned. Steve nodded quickly. 

“Yeah, uh, I-I’m coming, just a minute,” he stuttered out. Bucky’s face fell to confusion again. Steve’s face was beet red and he was clutching his sketchbook tightly to his lap. 

“Okay..” Bucky shrugged and turned towards the kitchen, wondering what the hell that was about. He went to the counter and finished setting up the now cold food. He didn’t even really remember what he had bought, just breakfast because he knows how much Steve loves it. After a few minutes Steve came trailing into the kitchen, smiling at the spread of breakfast foods. 

“Oh thank fuck,” he exclaimed. Bucky smiled, knowing it didn’t even matter that it was cold by now, breakfast makes anyone happy. The boys ate and talked about their respective days, Bucky giving full details on the disaster of a date he had earlier. He didn’t notice Steve’s expression fall slightly at the mention of it, but he didn’t feel too great talking about it either. He changed the subject quickly to talk about how ridiculous their English teachers are. 

Steve was a year younger but as a little kid he was very smart so he was moved up a year. He never had any trouble keeping up in school, even helping Bucky on occasion when it came to the stuff he struggled with. Bucky could handle numbers and sciences just fine, but he got lost sometimes in his history and english classes, and he welcomed the extra set of eyes Steve offered for his work. 

All the years of not only being in school but living in Brooklyn in general made Steve’s already faint Irish accent fade over time. It came through rarely when he was angry or really upset, but mostly he sounded American through and through. Sarah’s accent always stayed, though. A few words would come out Americanized, but most of her words came with the strong inflections of a thick Irish voice. Bucky could listen to her talk all day, he has, actually. As a kid he used to spend hours listening to her tell stories about Ireland and her own childhood, every now and again he’d ask her to repeat certain words or phrases because he adored the way it sounded. He always had a secret disdain for the loss of Steve’s accent, he used to love it so much.

Later on Bucky decided to just stay the night, a nasty snowstorm had taken over and he didn’t even want to think about walking home in it. He’d just have to leave early in the morning so he could run home and get his school bag. Nowadays when he stays at Steve’s he takes the couch, just not able to get comfortable on the floor in Steve’s room anymore. Bucky usually fell asleep relatively quickly, but tonight he was tossing and turning. He couldn’t get the drawings out of his mind, also the stark realization that he was in love with his best friend, but that’s a whole other thing. 

Eventually Bucky sighed and sat up, rubbing his face in his hands. It was the middle of the night but he just couldn’t sleep and he felt like he should do _something._ He stood up and tiptoed into Steve’s room, his eyes scanning through the dark for where the sketchbook ended up. He found it on the floor beside the bedside table and very carefully picked it up, stepping quietly back into the living room and sitting back down. He flipped through the pages until he found it, the drawing from earlier. Bucky sat and just admired it, his only light coming from the moon shining through the window next to him. He couldn’t figure out why the drawing impacted him so much. He’d seen almost everything Steve had ever drawn, now including the ones of him, but this one was different somehow. For the first time in his life, Bucky thought he looked pretty. 

Steve woke up the next morning to find Bucky asleep sitting up on the couch and resting on his lap was the sketchbook, opened to the page with the drawing he did the night before.  
_________________________________________________________________

Bucky was eighteen years old when he just couldn’t take it anymore. 

Spring had hit Brooklyn in full force and Steve’s allergies were tearing him a new one. On a good day his eyes were clear and he could breathe okay, but the good days were few and far in between. He was out of school more often than he was in, and with just a few weeks left Bucky was trying to make sure he got everything done and in on time. Occasionally he would boil pots of water so Steve could breathe in the steam, a trick picked up from Sarah, and other times he’d hold cold towels to Steve’s face, trying to get the swelling of his eyes and nose down. 

Steve stayed home that Friday, Sarah had brought him some hot towels and broth before she left for work. He stayed in bed most of the day, switching between his usual routine of drawing, reading and naps. He was asleep when Bucky arrived around dinner time. The first thing he did when he got inside was setting a pot of water on to boil on the highest heat setting. Bucky quietly went around Steve’s room to pick up the small towels and the bowl of now cold water at his bedside table. 

Bucky never minded picking up after Steve when he was sick. He knew that it not only helped Steve not have to worry about it but it also made it easier for Sarah to come home to everything clean. She knew it was always Bucky that cleaned, she would thank him for it and he would always say he didn’t know what she was talking about. When Bucky finished the last of the dishes the pot of water was at a rolling boil, a heavy cloud of steam coming off of it. He turned the heat down low and spooned some of the water into a small bowl. He dipped one of the clean towels into the water and wrung it out, grabbing the other from inside the fridge. He tucked both towels under his arm and grabbed the bowl of steaming water, carrying it all into Steve’s room. 

He set everything down on Steve’s bedside table and went back to the kitchen to pour a glass of water, bringing it back and setting it beside everything else. He stood and watched Steve for a minute, his even breaths coming with the slight rise and fall of his chest. Bucky felt bad knowing he’d have to wake him up, he looked so peaceful, not in any pain. Bucky sat down on the edge of the bed next to Steve, lightly brushing the blond hair off his forehead. 

“Stevie?” Bucky whispered. He kept his hand laced in Steve’s hair, slightly shaking his arm. Steve shifted slightly, his eyelashes starting to flutter. “C’mon Stevie wake up,” he continued. Steve groaned quietly and cracked open his eyes, a small cough following it. Bucky’s fingers started lightly scratching at his head as he woke up more. He groaned again and pushed himself to sit up against the wall. Bucky reluctantly moved his hand from Steve’s hair and he reached behind him to grab the bowl of water. 

“Here, deep breaths, as much as you can.” Bucky held the bowl beneath Steve’s chin, letting him take deep breaths in the steam billowing off of it. Bucky listened to the quiet wheezes coming from his chest and no matter how many times he’s heard it, it always hurts his heart a bit. After a few minutes Bucky put the bowl back down and replaced it with the cold towel, pressing it over Steve’s forehead and eyes. 

“You don’t have to baby me, Bucky. I can take care of myself,” Steve huffed out. Bucky looked down and smiled sheepishly. 

“I know, but you’ve never had to before and I’m not about to let you start now. ‘Til the end of the line, remember?” Steve shook his head and chuckled. 

“I’m not dyin’ Buck it’s just allergies,” Steve replied with a sarcastic tone. 

“I know,” Bucky paused. _How should he word this?_ “Just don’t want you to forget, is all.” Well that wasn’t _untrue_ , but it definitely wasn’t what he wanted to say. Bucky was wringing his hands together now, he’s been feeling really overwhelmed lately. 

Ever since he realized his feelings he’s been having a really hard time keeping his head around Steve. It was like he was so hyper-aware of the things he said and did around him but he was also somehow a completely obvious idiot. So far Steve seemed none the wiser, but Bucky was terrified one day he’d slip up and lose Steve for good. He knew it wasn’t right, these thoughts he was having. He should be thinking about women that way, obviously, and he did, sometimes? He’s been on some dates and took some girls dancing and had a perfectly good time, and definitely his fair share of fun. But he’s found himself on more than one occasion eyeing some of the fellas in the dance hall as well. 

A few weeks ago one of them was eyeing him right back, they talked and had a few drinks, nothing special. They actually ended up in the back alley behind the hall but Bucky panicked and split when the guy went for his belt. He was enjoying it but when he felt that happen he just got slapped with reality and freaked. He bolted all the way to Steve’s and when he came into his room and laid on the floor silently, Steve gave a questioning look but didn’t say a word, like he just automatically knew better. Soon Bucky had sat up and leaned against the side of the bed, and they were both silent as Bucky slowly fell asleep with Steve lightly running his fingers through Bucky’s hair. 

Truthfully, Bucky was over it. It was at the point where it hurt Bucky to be around Steve so often and refrain from admitting everything he was feeling. He was just going to do it, just admit it all, lay it all out on the table. No matter how Steve took it, he’d just accept it. Bucky just couldn’t do it anymore.

He waited until the next morning, Steve had woken up feeling significantly better and was in a really good mood. The sun was out and the first hints of a summer breeze were coming through the open windows. The two boys spent the morning eating breakfast on the fire escape and decided to spend the afternoon around the city. 

They went to a few different parks and got a late lunch at a diner down the road from the apartment. Steve hadn’t been out of the house properly in a while so he really savored the days like this. He wondered sometimes if it would just be better to tell Bucky how he really felt, just admit it and take whatever beating he’ll probably get for thinking like that. No matter what he didn’t want to risk losing Bucky from his life, but Steve felt like he was going insane. Maybe he’ll say something soon, if the right moment comes. 

That night they wandered back to Steve’s, both feeling like they had a high from the day. Neither of them could remember having laughed that hard or smiled that big in a long time. When they got back home Steve kicked his shoes off and poured himself a glass of water in the kitchen. Bucky stood awkwardly by the dining table, his hands pushed deep in his pockets.

“Well, I should probably get home, it’s getting late,” Bucky announced. Steve turned towards him quickly and shook his head. 

“Uh, you can stay another night, if you want to? It’s the weekend so we got nowhere to be.” Steve was gesturing wildly as he spoke, something he didn’t do often but Bucky knew meant he was nervous about something, though he couldn’t figure out what it was. Bucky grinned and waved Steve off. 

“My momma’s gonna want me home, Stevie. I’ve been here with you most of the week she’s convinced I’m slowly moving in here,” he huffed out a laugh. Steve chuckled in response. “I’ll be back tomorrow though, promise.” Bucky added. Steve’s face fell and he nodded slowly. 

“Oh, alright then. Tell Winnie I said hi, will ya?” Steve had his back turned to Bucky, feeling like he just couldn’t meet his eyes right now.

“Yeah course I will,” Bucky responded. He turned to leave, his hand on the doorknob when he decided he just couldn’t handle it anymore. _Now or never._ “Um, actually Stevie, can we talk for a second?” Bucky’s voice had started to get shaky, he felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. Steve turned back and looked at Bucky with concern. 

“Of course, Buck what’s going on?” Bucky felt like he should just forget it, say it’s nothing and run all the way home. Or maybe he should just make something up about a girl he likes or whatever. With every second that passes where Steve is staring at him, Bucky regrets this decision more and more. He must’ve been quiet too long cause Steve was walking towards him and waving his hand in front of Bucky’s face. 

“Hello? Buck what’s wrong?” Steve was looking at him with so much concern written over his face and his hand was resting on Bucky’s arm. It was Steve’s attempt to ground him and bring Bucky’s focus back, but his mind was a million miles away right now. “Bucky! What the hell is wr-” 

“I’m in love with you!” Bucky interrupted, saying it much louder than he intended. Steve’s mouth fell open in surprise. He looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Bucky decided the only thing to do now is talk out of his ass until Steve finds words, hopefully nice ones. 

“I-I mean I love you like a friend of course! You’re my best friend I love you more than anything and that also applies to being in love with you and wanting to be around you all the time and now wait that sounds really creepy I didn’t mean that-” and he just kept going, barely stopping to take a breath. Steve was still looking up at him and a smile was starting to form on his face. Bucky was too busy rambling to see that Steve wasn’t angry or upset, not in the slightest. Steve shook Bucky’s arm and even called his name a few times, Bucky was still rambling and gesturing around, completely lost in his desperate attempt to explain himself. At this point Steve had had it. 

“Bucky! Shut! Up!” Steve shouted. Bucky’s voice faltered and he stared down at Steve, terrified of what he was thinking. What he did say, Bucky wasn’t expecting. 

“God you idiot, you talk way too much,” Steve admitted, breathless. A look of shocked confusion swept over Bucky’s face. Of all the things Steve could say when learning this information, that’s what he chooses? He opened his mouth to respond when Steve grabbed Bucky’s jacket collar tightly and yanked him down, harshly pressing his lips against Bucky’s. His eyes widened in shock, he didn’t even truly fathom what had happened until Steve pulled away. 

“I’m sorry I probably shouldn’t have done that I just didn’t know how else to shut you up and-” Now it was Steve’s turn to ramble out an explanation. Bucky smiled and interrupted Steve’s words by leaning down and kissing him again, this time much softer. Steve melted into it, releasing his grip on the jacket and moving to wrap his arms around Bucky’s neck. 

They stayed this way for a few minutes, finally pulling apart to breathe. Bucky rested his forehead against Steve’s, a wide grin on his face which Steve mirrored. 

“Honestly thought you were gonna punch me for a minute there, Stevie,” Bucky began. “This definitely wasn’t in my list of possible outcomes.” Steve let out a small giggle in response, bringing his head up to meet the taller boy’s eyes. 

“Was this outcome okay?” Steve asked almost teasingly. Bucky smirked. 

“Oh baby, it’s perfect.” Steve’s smile returned and he got on his tiptoes to give another chaste kiss. Steve felt tears start to brim in his eyes, overwhelmed with the happiness he was feeling. He felt a few tears roll down his cheeks but Bucky was there to wipe them away. 

“Don’t worry Buck. ‘M just real happy,” Steve assured him. Bucky nodded and wiped another tear off Steve’s face, admiring the bright blue color of his eyes. 

“So pretty,” Bucky whispered.  
_________________________________________________________________

Steve was eighteen years old when his mother died. 

She’d been sick for a while, but it was the worst day of his life. He came into the hospital that morning to check on her before he went to work, just like he did everyday. His heart started racing when he saw multiple nurses moving in and out of the room, and his heart stopped when one of them said he couldn’t go in. 

Steve had a nurse call Bucky’s work and he had shown up within the hour, he looked like he ran the whole way there and Steve wouldn’t even doubt it. None of the doctors could tell them anything, just that they needed to stay in the waiting room and they’d hear soon. 

They waited for over an hour before a nurse came out with a solemn expression. 

“Mr. Rogers?” Steve shot out of his seat and rushed over, Bucky on his heels. “We did everything we could. Her right lung collapsed this morning and the left couldn’t handle the strain of it. It’s not uncommon with this strand of tuberculosis but she fought hard, harder than most. I’m so sorry Mr. Rogers.” She spoke calmly, keeping her tone as even as possible. Bucky thought she must’ve had to break that exact news to hundreds of families by now, to her this was no different. Steve’s face crumpled and his legs gave up beneath him, he fell to his knees and Bucky rushed over to help him. Steve heard the nurse explain a few more things but he didn’t understand any of it. He had static in his ears and he felt like he couldn’t even think, couldn’t process what was happening. He heard the sounds of Bucky’s voice responding to the nurse and she walked away after. 

“I-I didn’t e-even get to say good-goodbye, Buck,” Steve cried. Bucky held him tightly against his chest and shushed him quietly, whispering to him to try and keep him grounded through his sobs. 

“I know, baby I know,” he mumbled.

The next few days were hard. Steve and Bucky had been looking for a new apartment together because they were having trouble keeping up with the rent that Sarah had paid since Steve had a hard time holding down a good job, and the medical bills didn’t exactly help either. They felt the pressure even more now because Steve could barely walk through the apartment without breaking down. He stayed in his room mostly, occasionally sitting on the fire escape wrapped up in a blanket. Bucky found him asleep out there one night and tried carrying him back to his bed but Steve formed a death grip on Bucky’s shirt in his sleep, so Bucky caved and stayed the rest of the night. 

Sarah’s funeral came a little over a week later, it was small but everyone who mattered in her life was there. Many of her coworkers, Bucky’s family, neighbors, even some of the local shop-owners that Sarah used to visit almost every week since Steve was six. When she was hospitalized Steve had gone around to let them know, and now he came to visit them every so often just for the familiarity. The funeral showed just how many lives she had touched, with every new person that came through the church doors Steve smiled just a little. 

Her burial was much smaller, just her dearest friends and Bucky’s family. She was laid next to Steve’s father, he didn’t remember nearly anything about his father but he’s seen a picture or two that showed how much Steve was starting to look like him. Winnie had offered to make dinner and have Steve over, but he politely declined and walked home from the cemetery, Bucky accompanying him. Steve tried pushing him to go home but Bucky wasn’t having any of it. They had found a small apartment a few blocks away and they were moving next week. 

That night Bucky found all the cushions and blankets in the house and made a pillow fort the size of the entire living room. He set up different sections and even included the fire escape window. They ate dinner in the fort and played card games, eventually falling asleep, Steve on the couch and Bucky directly below him on the floor. 

They spent the next few days together packing up the apartment and getting ready to move. Bucky asked a few of the guys from work to help on the day of and his parents had already helped move everything out of his room at their house to the new place. Steve kept most of the decorations and knick-knacks that Sarah kept around, partly because he liked them and partly because they were just a good reminder of who she was. 

When everything was finally moved in, Steve gave a teary goodbye to the apartment he grew up in and the two boys got a celebratory ice cream cone from the shop that was now just a block away from their new home. 

“I don’t even know how to decorate an apartment,” Steve said while looking at the blank walls. Bucky shrugged and looked around. 

“I dunno either but we’ll figure something out,” he replied. He tossed the rest of his ice cream in the trash and walked over to Steve who was looking out their new fire escape window. He wrapped his arm around the blond’s thin shoulders and kissed the top of his head, Steve responding by tightly wrapping his arms around Bucky’s waist. “Don’t worry, Stevie,” Bucky started. “We’ll make it look real pretty.” Steve smiled for the first time in a while and looked up to meet Bucky’s eyes. 

“Just like you,” he crooned.

_______________________________________________________

Bucky was twenty-two years old when he heard about the war. 

He and Steve were out for dinner one night when the radio was playing the announcement, Europe has officially become part of the war. Germany, Poland, France, Bucky couldn’t even remember where else. The patrons in the restaurant were quiet, whispering to each other about the news and trying to figure out just what the hell was going on. Steve’s mood noticeably shifted after, his appetite lessened and he told Bucky he was ready to go home. 

They walked home slowly, suddenly feeling like they needed to take stock of their lives. They walked past parks to see the wind through the trees, watched the sunset, and when they got back home they sat squeezed together on the fire escape, holding hands underneath a thin blanket. 

Bucky knew exactly what Steve was thinking about. He lost his father to war, before Steve could even have a viable memory of him. The thought of it happening again and facing the loss of more in his life, it scared him so much more than he’d like to admit. Bucky squeezed Steve’s hand tightly, reminding him that he was there. 

“We’ll bring him some flowers tomorrow, honey. First thing,” Bucky offered. Steve nodded stiffly, sniffling quietly. 

“Yeah, okay,” he whispered back. Bucky knew better than to mention it, but Steve held him just a little tighter that night. 

The next morning they got dressed up and walked to Sarah’s favorite flower vendor. The owner greeted them with a kind smile and asked how they were doing these days, checking especially with Steve. They picked out a few different types of flowers and got them wrapped up nicely, it was worth the extra pennies. They said their goodbyes and Steve promised the owner he’d come by more often, he did miss seeing her. She was a sweet older lady who used to give Steve candies when Sarah came to get flowers every other week, she even brought him an entire casserole at the wake. 

They walked together to the cemetery and sat on the bench a little ways from the headstone, Steve needed a minute first. Bucky held his hand tightly underneath his suit jacket, his thumb rubbing circles across the back of Steve’s hand. Steve took a deep breath and stood up slowly, taking small strides towards the stone. He placed one bunch of the flowers over his father, the carnations and magnolias. Bucky placed the other over Sarah, the lilies and roses. 

They sat back on the bench and stayed for a while, telling stories from growing up. 

“I hope the flowers are alright, I only knew Ma liked roses,” Steve interjected. 

“Don’t worry about that, they’re real nice and I know they’d both love them,” Bucky defended. 

“Yeah, they are.” Steve knew his Ma was partial to roses, but the other flowers were just ones he loved himself. He got the carnations because he knew that Bucky loved them but that he’d never admit it. Steve hated growing up without his father, but more than anything he hated that his father never got to meet Bucky, he would’ve loved him. At least the flowers were pretty.  
_______________________________________________________

Bucky was twenty-four years old when he went to war. 

He and Steve were at their favorite diner when the radio announcement from the president was released. They were going to war, and it was up to the men to fight in it. Everyone was silent then. Men were hugging their wives tighter, women clutching their children, everyone trying to make sense of what that meant for their future. 

Soon Bucky was given his orders and his uniform, shipping out to England tomorrow. Steve had been rejected three times now, he had too many medical issues to count, and with the physicality of a sickly thirteen year old girl, he didn’t stand much of a chance either way. He and Bucky went to the Stark Expo and watched a failed attempt at a flying car, but the charisma of the man presenting it made it come off almost like it was intentional. Steve didn’t know much about Howard Stark but he had a feeling that he got away with a lot from his charm alone. They got a quick supper and went back home, neither one wanting the night to end, because first thing in the morning Bucky was leaving for something that he might not come back from. 

Steve was stretched out on the fire escape and Bucky was sitting in the window frame, both watching the nightlife of Brooklyn pass by. After a while Steve spoke. 

“I’ll meet you out there, Buck. I don’t care what it takes.” Bucky laughed and looked over at him. 

“Stevie, I told you, any chance you have to stay outta the fire fight you need to take.” Steve shook his head but stayed silent, they’ve argued about this a lot over the past few days and Steve wasn’t about to start it up again. He’d find a way to get shipped out, no matter what he wouldn’t be left behind and have others in a fight he wanted to defend himself in. 

“I just don’t want you to forget me,” he whispered after a while as he moved to sit cross-legged in front of Bucky. 

“Oh baby,” Bucky sighed. He leaned down and kissed Steve sweetly, the stairs obscuring them from view. He pulled back and placed both hands on Steve’s cheeks, looking at those bright blue eyes he loves so much. “I could never forget your pretty face.” Steve smiled and leaned up to catch Bucky’s mouth in another chaste kiss. 

“I love you. A whole fucking lot,” Steve said quietly. Bucky hummed and kissed him again. 

“I love you too, baby,” he said through the kiss. He grabbed the front of Steve’s shirt and pulled him forward slightly. “Let’s go inside now, please.” Steve nodded fervently and followed him through the window, quickly shutting it behind him. This was their last night together for a while and they were going to spend it together in every way possible. 

The future was terrifying for both of them. They had no idea what was coming and the thought of being apart and never knowing when or if they’d see each other again hurt them so much. But they both loved so hard, so much, and Bucky had a feeling that a war on a different continent wasn’t going to keep Steve away for very long. In fact, he’d bet every dime he had that it wouldn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> this genuinely took me a month and it all started cause i wanted to write one 600 word scene can you tell i have adhd? feel free to comment cause i love talking about my pre-war boys and come find me on tumblr @toffeebucky !


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